The lost and the forgotten
by TheGutsyWolf
Summary: It's amazing how life can go from one extreme to another. One day you could be sitting at work minding your own business and then next you could find yourself running for your life from flesh-eating corpses. Yeah, the apocalypse is no picnic. But with spite, determination, and four random strangers watching your back, surviving may just be a little bit easier. (Rated M to be safe)
1. Seventeen hours and counting

Hiya, and welcome to my fic. It's been a while since I've written anything and I'm currently re-doing a lot of my old fics, and I have decided that I would like to continue to try a write a somewhat plausible walking dead fic.

Anyway, hope you enjoy.

Updated: 31/10/18 | Word Count: 2,247

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The lost and the forgotten

Chapter one: seventeen hours and counting

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"So, how's life been treating you as of late." Asks Faith, dipping one of her few remaining fries into a smear of ketchup before eating it.

She shrugs, staring out the window beside her as someone in the diner's kitchen coughs heavily, making her wonder just how safe their food was to eat. She doesn't want to end up catching that super flu that's been going around, she can't afford the time off work for one.

"Okay, I guess." She watches as people shuffle around on the street in front of her, pale in the face and coughing up a storm into their hands and coat sleeves while others do their best to avoid them. "My landlord's still a racist, sexist asshole who needs an attitude adjustment and my housemates are just as weird as ever. But, apart from that my life's been going pretty well."

Her phone vibrates then and she pulls it out of her jacket pocket to check it. Before, turning it off with a frustrated sigh, placing it back in her pocket when she sees who it is that sent her the message.

"How's your mom doing these days, Amelia?" Inquires Faith, knowing full well who the message was from, they'd talked briefly about her mother's relentless slew of messages a few days back. "She's trying to get in touch with you again, right?"

She grimaces, slouching back into her seat as she remembers the other hundred or so voicemail and text messages she had left in the passing week. "I don't know and I don't care. She can go jump off a cliff for all I care."

Her friends sighs, tapping her fingers on the table as the waitress a tall, thin girl with a freckled face and long mousy brown hair and who looks no older than fifteen appears back at the table. "Are you finished with your plates?" Inquires the girl with a timid smile.

"I am." Said Amelia. "How about you, Faith?"

"Yeah, I'm finished." She says, pausing her tapping to hand the girl her plate. "Thanks."

"Are y'all good. Do you want me to getcha anything else? Refills? Dessert?"

They both shake their heads in unison. "Nope, we're good, just finishing up actually." Replies Faith and the waitress who's name is supposedly Amber if her name tag is anything to go by smiles at them. Before, scurrying away to dispose of their plates and serve another set of sniffling customers sat on the opposite side of the diner.

"You finally done with her then?" Said Faith, resuming the tapping of her fingers on her near empty glass of cola.

Amelia shoots her friend a confused look. Until she remembers who their previous conversation had been about before they had been interrupted.

She sighs, twirling the straw of her milkshake between her fingers. "I just don't know what I'm doing any more faith." She said, watching the waitress pour a fresh cup of coffee for one of the sickly looking customers. "I'm tired. I'm tired of her lies and I'm tired of her criticisms and I'm tired of being her daughter." It hurts her to say it, kills her in fact. But, as they say, it's not like you can choose who you're related to. "It's the same old thing each and every time. She either wants me to load her some money, or she's going to beg me to take a long trip up to Atlanta to visit her again."

"And are you?" Asks Faith. "Because we both know that's a bad idea."

Amelia sighs, remembering what happened the last time she was roped into visiting her mother, and how even now, months later she's still trying to pick up the pieces and duct tape her life back together again. "I'm not picking my phone and ringing her back am I." The words sound comical even to her own ears. They both know how the story goes by now, her mother will wear her down with phone calls and text messages and even emails. Until, Amelia eventually gives in and picks up the phone and is inevitably baited into whatever it is her mother wants from her, only to be left high and dry when her mothers finally gotten what she wants from her.

"Well, I still think it's a bad idea." She says, reaching for her glass and drinking the last of her cola.

"I-" She says before cutting herself off. She's known Faith for a good long while now, to the extent where the it's sometimes hard to imagine that the smiling, down to earth redhead in front of her was once a screaming, angry mess of a girl, who'd been thrown into the nearest psych ward because nobody gave a damn to question why a fifteen-year-old girl was turning up to school with a new set of bruises each day. "It's just hard to let go, you know."

Faith hums in agreement in front of her. If anyone understands the pain of having to cut ties with their own family it's her. "It'd be for the better."

Amelia just shrugs in response, lowering her head to stare down at the table, preoccupying her thoughts by counting the various stains and stains that decorate it.

They remain silent for a few moments, the slow rhythmic tip tapping of Faith's fingers and the shushed small talk from across the diner being the only verification that time hasn't stopped, even if it feels like an eternity between each tap of Faith's fingers on the table.

She only looks up when Faith sighs, expecting her to continue the conversation about her mother. But, she doesn't and instead swipes a pesky lock of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes back behind her ear as she says. "I fancy something a little stronger than cola."

Amelia blinks. "Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Yeah, well, I could go for a drink right about now and you look like you could use one." She said, ignoring the question. "We could go to that new place that's opened up across town, you know the one next to Chuck's."

Amelia shrugs, resting her head on her hand as she goes back to observing the other patrons in the diner, each submerged in their own little bubbles, as they set about drinking their steaming cups of coffee and chatting to the waitress as she mills about the diner, clearing away empty plates and cups and offering refills.

"I'm game if you are." She responds, realising she could, in fact, use a drink right about now to dull the stresses of the day. "Just so long as you're buying the first round."

Faith smirks at her. "Sure thing, sister." grabbing her jacket as Amelia flags down the waitress to pay for their meals, handing the girl more than enough and receiving a surprised "Thank you." From the waitress as she realises she's been left a more than generous tip.

Amelia just smiles at her and thanks her for the food. Before she follows her friend out of the diner, cool night air hitting her as they head out towards the empty parking lot towards Faith's car. The diner behind them serving as the only stable source of light as the street lights in around of them buzz and flicker haltingly, but fail to produce much light.

"Excuse me." Comes a small croaky voice behind them, interrupting their conversation. "Excuse me, miss." It says again, causing the duo to turn around to see who was calling to them.

"Uh, hello?" Says Amelia, coming face to face with a short middle-aged women. "Um, we're not interested in converting to any religion." She adds, turning to look at Faith as she notes the many flyers the women is carrying.

The women shakes her head at them. "No, no... I'm-Ah...I'm not an evangelist...I just." The women pauses, taking a deep steadying breath to calm herself. "I was wondering if either of you had possibly seen this boy." She adds, showing them both one of the flyers she's carrying.

The word "Missing" decorates the top of the flyer in bold red letters, resting atop a large picture of a smiling teenage boy, with cheerful blue eyes and spiky dirty blond hair a couple of shades darker than the women's.

"He's my son." Explains the women, handing them both a flyer. "He went missing two days ago while walking home, if you know anything, anything at all. Please tell me."

Amelia studies the picture in front of her as Faith asks. "Have you, you know." She shrugs, thinking of a polite way to ask her question. "Gone to the police about this. I'm sure they'd be more help than us."

The women casts solemn eyes at the duo, her shoulders sagging as tears well in the corners of her tired eyes. "I've been to the police." Said the women voice brittle and cracking. "But, they won't do anything. He's seventeen you see and they keep telling me he's probably off partying somewhere with friends." She frowns at that part, staring at the picture of the smiling boy, her eyes distant and perturbed. "But, I know he's not. I've checked with all his friends you see and all of them are certain that he said he was going home on the night he disappeared. He's a good boy my Lucas. It's just not In his nature to up and vanish like this."

The duo shares a look with each other out of the corner of their eyes. Before, turning their attentions back to the women, who appears likely to burst into tears at any moment. They know how useless the police can be with these sorts of matters. In another life, it'd be almost comical how no one seems to care if you're missing, unless you're under the age of fourteen, or you just so happen to have a certain amount of swing in the community. In fact, the police probably just told the lady to fuck off when she first wandered on into the station, hoping for a little understanding and some hope. Well, they wouldn't have said those words exactly, but they would have said them in a similar way, which conveyed just as much disbelief and ridicule.

Amelia sighs, once upon a time she'd been in the same shoes as the women, handing out flyers and searching the streets for a loved one that no one else seemed to give a damn about. She knows what it's like to search and search, grasping whatever hope you can find. Before, you get that ill-fated knock on the door and an unsympathetic apology, which means nothing to you, because they're dead, and you're never going to see them smile again, never going to hear them laugh, never going to get the chance to say goodbye, to apologise for every argument and insignificant little t thing you've ever said or done to them.

She stares picture in front of her, studying the boy's features as she tries to remember if she had seen or heard anything about the boy. "I'm sorry." She says, feeling the beginnings of a headache forming behind her eyes when she realises she can't place the boy. "I haven't seen him."

"Me neither, ma'am." Adds Faith beside her, fidgeting with her keys.

"It's okay." Responds the women not meeting their eyes as she stares at her hands, curling into herself. "Well, thank your time." She adds her voice stiff and monotone as her bottom lip quivers slightly. "Please hold on to those flyers, my details are at the bottom if you happen to see or hear anything."

"We will." Says Faith as Amelia nods at the women, who gives them a weak smile before walking off to the diner, no doubt hoping to find someone in there that has more information on her son.

Amelia has to hold herself back from reaching out to the women as she shuffles her way into the diner. For what reason she doesn't know. It's not like she could be of any help to the women, her lack of information proving that already. But, there's something about the women's doleful expression and resigned way of talking, which makes her want to reach out and hug her, as crazy as that may seem. Since the lady most certainly wouldn't want random strangers grabbing at her, pitying her for something she cannot control. Something which leaves her grasping at straws while the local enforcement sits by and does nothing.

The thought of this poor woman being reduced to begging for information makes her blood boil, she doesn't even realise that her free hand has formed into a fist until Faith taps her on her shoulder, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Come on, Amelia. Let's go." She says, trying to usher her in the direction of her car and away from the diner. "Come on." She says again, grabbing the hand still curled into a fist into her own, interlocking it with hers and tugging on it gently when her friend remains motionless beside her. Looking, unseeing into the diner through fogged windows as the women tries to hand out more flyers.

"Okay," Said Amelia, finally responding to her friend, voice soft and distant as she snaps out of her trance-like state. "Okay." She says again, her feet finally beginning to move as she allows Faith to guide her towards the car.


	2. Three hours left

_A/N:_ _Yay_ , _I've finally written another chapter for this fic, expect another chapter soon._

Hiya, I've updated and reposted this chapter since I wasn't too happy with how I did it the first time around, so instead of splitting up into two parts, I've decided to leave all six pages together. I'm just hoping that this chapter isn't too long for anyone.

Anyway, I would just like to mention that this story will feature some of the following content, so I'm just going to tag and place warnings for what's in store for the future here.

Mentions of intense violence, drug references/reference to addiction, strong sexual content ( _/Lemons/Limes, if you know what they are_ 😏), graphic mentions of illness/death, and references/mentions of suicide, stong/coarse language, and many more which will be tagged on later chapters.

^^^ The only warning for this chapter is the use of strong/coarse language and the above warnings will come into play later on. ^^^

Also, this story isn't going to strictly follow Tv cannon since there are elements from the comics and video games (Poor Clem) which I love, that being said Clementine is likely only going to serve as a brief mention later on in the story and nothing else. It's also going to be a while before my group of original characters are going to be meeting up with Rick's group for a while.

Now with all that out of the way, happy reading.

Posted 29/12/18 |Last updated:01/01/19 |Word Count: 1,896

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Chapter two: Three hours left

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An achingly dry throat and a throbbing, pulsating headache are what she awakens to as she tries to block out the early morning sun filtering in through her partially closed curtains. She shuffles and squirms in her bed as she tries to find a position for her head that doesn't make the room spin and sway as much.

She never does find a comfortable position for herself, her alarm blaring to life beside her before she can, sending a wave of pulsating pain through her skull as she struggles to reach over and shut it off. She huffs as she rolls over onto her back to stare up at the paint cracked ceiling, while the early morning sound of birds, cars, and her neighbour's dog barking sounds from outside.

She sighs, palming a hand over her face as she tries to shake off some of the grogginess of her hangover to no avail. She swings her legs over the side of her bed before she forces herself to stand on shaky legs, forcing down the sudden bout of nausea that bubbles up at the back of her throat as she makes to the bathroom, in the hopes that a warm shower will help rid her off some of the pain surging through her head.

She makes quick work of her clothes as she steps into the bathroom, before hopping into the shower and letting the lukewarm water wash away the dirt and grime of yesterday. She tries to let herself relax, but the quickly cooling spray of water is anything but pleasant and doesn't do anything to help soothe her aching head or body, so she decides to quickly set about washing her hair and body before the water starts to run any colder than it currently is.

Shutting off the water, she wraps herself in an old course bleach stained towel as she hurriedly brushes her teeth, before grabbing another old towel in a quick attempt to dry her hair. She doesn't care that her hairs still mostly damp when she leaves the bathroom in favour of getting herself dressed for another day of work.

She spends a few minutes rooting through her dresser and closet in the hopes of finding something to acceptable to wear, amongst the piles of grimy discarded clothes littering her bedroom floor. Before, eventually settling on a white long sleeved button up blouse, black dress pants, and a weird moss green jacket she didn't realise she had but fits nonetheless.

Amelia brushes her hair and ties it up into a loose ponytail as she makes her way downstairs and into the living room, swallowing down the still persistent urge to vomit as she makes her way through the house in search of painkillers and something to drink.

"Good mornin', sunshine." Calls Jayden from the couch as she heads past him into the kitchen.

She just grunts in acknowledgement, as she searches through the bare cupboards and draws of their kitchen for something to dull the pain in her head.

"If you're looking for painkillers than you're out of luck." Said Jayden from where he's sat on the couch, dressed in nothing but a pair of pink boxer shorts and an old black band t-shirt, watching old reruns of Scooby Doo while he eats handfuls of cheerios straight out of the box. "Chloe finished the last of them off when she went out partying last week."

Amelia huffs, slamming the cupboard door shut as she makes her way over to the fridge, unsurprised to find it just as empty as the rest of the kitchen, condiments and a quarter full carton of orange juice being the only 'food' items left. She grabs the juice, shutting the fridge door behind her as she guzzles down the liquid thirstily, before tossing the empty bottle into the trash.

"Where're the others?" She croaks out, noting the lack of noise and mess as she sits beside him on the couch, grabbing a handful of cheerios when he ever so politely offers her the box.

Jayden doesn't look away from the Tv and just shrugs in response as the cartoon teens unmask the cartoonishly deranged villain. "Chloe's sister's gone through a pretty bad relapse so she's driving up to her folks to see what's happened, and Mike had a couple of chunks taken out of him by some psycho yesterday and is still under observation in the hospital, he's come down with a pretty nasty fever, apparently."

He flicks a few Cheerios into his mouth as she blinks up at him. "He what?" Asks Amelia, using whatever brain cells that aren't currently trying to break through her skull to make sense of what's just been said. "He's in the hospital? When the hell did that happen?"

"Last night." He says, leaning back into the couch as he crunches on the cereal. "His brother came by last night to pick up some clean clothes and the likes for him. Told me they'd been out drinking and this dude came out of nowhere and attacked them when they were walking back from the bar, the guy bit off a few chunks off of him before they managed to get away."

She leans forward on the couch, rubbing her fingers into her temple as she tries to will away her headache. "Fuck." She groans, words escaping her at the moment as the marching band residing in her head continues to rattle the inside of her skull. "Cops catch the guy?"

"Nope."

"Figures."

"Yeah, and his brother told me he's not the first person to have had chunks taken out of him either. Apparently, some other people have been attacked recently too and the cops seem to think it's to do with junkies sorting some new kind of bath salts or something, I don't know." He shrugs, grabbing another handful of cereal. "You know how wild David can get with his stories and the ensuing theories that follow."

Amelia nods in response, everybody who had the pleasure of meeting David knows that he's more than a little bit unhinged at the best of times. The best of times usually being when he's taking his medications as he should, and not screwing around with the dosages and the such. Because he's got it in his head that the government are secretly trying to poison or abduct him.

"Anyway," He adds, grabbing the remote to flip through the channels until he finally settles on another kid's channel with a cartoon he's interested in watching. "The short story's that the police are still apparently trying to catch the bastard responsible. The verdicts still out on whether or not they will though."

"Typical." Grunts Amelia, swallowing down a small handful of the dry cereal. "Aren't you suppose to be working?"

He yawns, stretching out as much of his body as he can on the cramped couch as he watches Wile E. Coyote try and fail to catch the Road Runner, yet again. "Restaurant's been temporarily closed due to that super flue that's been going around, nearly all the staff except yours truly have come down with it recently, and Mr Garcia's wife's still in critical care and isn't likely to leave the hospital so who knows when he's going to reopen it." Jayden sighs, scratching the back of his neck as he sets his feet onto the coffee table.

"It's not like I don't like having the time off or anything, but it sucks." He shakes his head as an overly obnoxious toy commercial plays on the Tv. "I mean it's not like I'm getting paid while the place is closed."

"Don't worry about it." Reassures Amelia, patting him on the shoulder as she struggles to keep down a sour wave of nausea that rises to the back of her throat, leaving a rancid almost fruity aftertaste on the back of her tongue which makes her regret not checking the expiration date of the juice she drank earlier. "I'll spot you your quarter of the rent this week if you need it."

"You don't have to," replies Jayden sheepishly as he fiddles with a frayed piece of couch cushion. "I'm sure Bill has some under the counter work that I could do or knows someone who has who's willing to pay me cash in hand for a few weeks"

"Well, I'm just letting you know yo-" She cuts herself off as she takes note of the clock on the Tv and jumps up from the couch, sending the box of cereal flying across the room scattering Cheerios all over the hard wooden floor. "Fuck. Fuck. Shit." She holds her head as the marching band from earlier returns for a repeat performance.

"What's wrong?"

She whips her head back to look at him and almost doubles over from the pain that pursues the action. "I'm fucking late for my fucking bus." She shouts, scrambling into the kitchen to grab her work bag from where it's perched on the counter,

"Key, keys, where the fu-"

"Red bowl on top of the fridge." Interrupts Jayden from the living room as he grabs the cereal box from off the floor.

She grabs her keys from out the bowl and mutters a quick "Thanks." to Jayden as she makes her way back through the living room and towards the front door, stepping over the scattered cereal as she promises to fetch back some actual food when she finishes work.

She makes her way down the street and towards the all too familiar bus stop, giving the customary waves to her neighbours as she passes them on the street and receives the usual curt nods and greetings of morning from them in return, as they themselves go about their lives and head to work or other such places.

She decides to check her phone as she makes to cross the street as she nears the stop, only to nearly get herself run over by some jackass going at least three times the speed limit in a residential area. She just curses as the car screeches around the corner nearly hitting an elderly gentleman and his dog, before disappearing out of sight as it speeds on past the clearly shaken old man.

She manages to forget the incident a bit by the time she reaches the stop, this time being sure to look both ways for speeding morons as crosses the street and gets in line at the bus stop, taking a good few steps back from the dishevelled man standing in front of her as he proceeds to cough opened mouthed towards the people in front of him, sending spittle and other fluids into the air as the other rightfully disgruntled people in front of him step away from him.

 _ _Oh, The joys of public transport.__ Is what she thinks to herself as the man continues to hack and cough his lungs up opened mouthed only stopping to tell a young mother to "Fuck off and mind her own business." when she politely asks him to cover his mouth when coughing near her infant son.

 _ _What a great day this is gearing up to be.__ She muses as the women shoots the man a seething look, filled with so much utter contempt she's surprised he hasn't burst into flames where he's standing, or at least reconsider his decision of coughing on a newborn.


End file.
